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I'm a 65-year old father of three and grandfather of six with opinions on nearly everything. I believe in courtesy, common sense, and fair play. I love ballroom dancing, reading, gourmet cooking, and travel. While I'm opinionated, I'm not close-minded, and I welcome your constructive comments on my blog. My motto: "I have seen the truth, and it makes no sense."

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Tuesday, April 11, 2017

A Man's Age Expressed in Terms of a Trip to Home Depot

My brother sends me a lot of e-mail, most of which is political and designed to get me spun up. He also sends a lot of funny stuff, most of which is either obscene or just unsuitable for repeating in a general-audience blog. This one, however, I thought was pretty funny. I've seen variations of it before, but this one was the best. Readers like Mike and John will appreciate it now ... the rest of you will appreciate it later ...

You are in the middle of some home project: putting in a new fence, painting the porch, planting some flowers, or fixing a broken door lock. You're hot and sweaty, covered with dirt, lawn clippings and paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit -- shorts with a hole in the crotch, an old T-shirt with a stain from who-knows-what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.

Right in the middle of these tasks you realize that you need to run to Home Depot for supplies. Depending on your age you might do the following:

In your 20s: Stop what you’re doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because, you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout line. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30s: Stop what you’re doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change your shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it! Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister of someone you went to school with.

In your 40s: Stop what you’re doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brut is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The cute young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird about thinking she's hot.

In your 50s: Stop what you’re doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog poop in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember … the hat you’re wearing is from Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms.'

In your 60s: Stop what you’re doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog poop off your shoes. Forget the mirror, it only shows pictures of some fat, bald guy. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on, so you're not sure.

In your 70s: Stop what you’re doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until you call the drug store to have your prescriptions ready for pickup, and check your grocery list for a quick stop there … got to save trips! You don't even notice the dog poop on your shoes. The young thing at the register stares at you and you realize your balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch… but who cares, anyhow.

In your 80s: Stop what you’re doing. Start again. Stop again. Remember you need to go to Home Depot. You go to Wal-Mart instead. You went to school with the old lady greeter. You wander around trying to remember what you’re looking for. Then you fart out loud and turn around thinking someone called your name.

In your 90s and beyond: What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden? Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this? Who farted?

Have a good day. Enjoy getting older ... for all the drawbacks, it's better than not getting older.